Little Pieces of Heaven
by Funky In Fishnet
Summary: People are dying from the inside out in the WWE. No one says anything. Then someone arrives to take it away
1. Intro: Silent Cry

Disclaimer: own nothing. I'm a student  
  
Everything was fine. The money was coming in through movie deals and Playboy covers. People were getting boosted up the rosters, perhaps the roster split hadn't been such a bad idea after all. There were weddings, babies, deaths and divorces. Everything comes back to you eventually  
  
It's like that old cliché. Things weren't always what they seemed  
  
Some were dead from the inside out. Hollow. That's what they'd become. You could see it in their eyes. There was nothing fizzling inside their heads but mouldy memories and sadness at what had been. Tears that gathered inside of them.  
  
But they smiled and they worked. They wrestled for their ravenous fans. They had to. It was all they lived for. The lost. Sucked of joy with nothing left to accomplish, nothing left to win. Empty  
  
It was a silent cry that went up. No one said anything and no one prayed. No one told the others how they felt. They said they were fine when asked and smiled, nodding their heads to emphasise. But people knew.  
  
Then someone heard their cry. Someone who was always watching. That was when things started to change. 


	2. Leave

Disclaimer: nothing (haven't u read the last page?!)  
  
It was a conspiracy that's what it was. They were all against him. He could see it in the way they talked to him and the way they offered advice. It was so damn patronising. That's what got to him the most. The fake overplayed sympathy when they mock whispered in his ear with their pearls of wisdom. He couldn't stand it anymore. Something had to give soon.  
  
Something wet splashed down his leg. He looked down and smiled tightly. He hadn't realised he'd been so violently splashing the water as he scrubbed off the body paint until then. He lifted his head to look in the mirror. Hair chopped shorted because all the dye was causing it to fall out, currently a deep green colour with a pale grey bandana keeping it off his face. Eyes small and mean, mouth twisted into an ugly frown. His body was pale and skinny; he hadn't been taking care of it for a while. He'd been too drained.  
  
When had wrestling suddenly taken a back seat? When had everything else nudged its way forward and shoved it out the way? He couldn't pinpoint the exact time or place but he knew it had happened over a long stretch. Music was a light in his life and always had been. Now it was a big glowing sun, shining on everything, making everything clearer. He was sick of being criticised over the internet where his so-called fans expressed themselves; their disappointment at his changed attitude and flakiness. It made him to sick to think about it. He'd forced himself to read some just to see what they said. He'd had to throw up afterwards. They were some damning scornful words that he couldn't stomach despite the nagging feeling that there was some truth hidden in the festering heap.  
  
He wanted to leave. That much he knew. But he couldn't. There was safety, security here and so much money to be made. His brother would be so disappointed and so would his father. Who knew what Amy would think of him? Let along the millions of fans who didn't trash him online. He leaned forward, his forehead pressed against the mirror, his eyes closed. Everything seemed to be crashing down on him and he knew he had to make a move but he didn't know how.  
  
"Just leave" a voice piped up  
  
His head shot up. He whirled around and caught sight of a young guy leaning against the bathroom wall. Where had he come from? Sure it was a public arena so anyone could use the bathrooms here though only crew were allowed backstage. This guy looked a bit too young to work on the crew though.  
  
"Are you part of the local crew?" he asked at last  
  
The guy laughed. It sounded like he was mocking him.  
  
"You could say that Jeff yeah"  
  
Jeff frowned at the voice. There was an accent. What was it? Then he placed it. British. It reminded him of thick grey storm clouds. The guy was watching him, a slight smile on his face. Jeff looked back, taking in his appearance; a crisp white long sleeved button down shirt with a black short sleeved one over the top completely undone, worn blue jeans and untidy sneakers. His hair was brown and didn't seem to have a style. He wore glasses too, round ones and jewellery, some sort of silver star on a black cord around his neck and another silver symbol on a black cord around his right wrist. He seemed perfectly at ease and comfortable where he was. He was watching Jeff.  
  
Jeff didn't like the way the guy was watching him, a smile on his face. He felt like he was being judged and looked through. Finally he turned to the younger guy  
  
"Why are you staring? Shouldn't you be shifting the ring or something?" he asked in exasperation  
  
"They've got people to do that, I'm watching you" replied the guy with more than a hint of laughter in his voice "have some fun out there?"  
  
Jeff thought about it. Fun? That wasn't the word. Neither was torture, or calling, or exhilarating. He paused, his hand cupped with water against his arm quickly draining.  
  
"No, not fun really" he absent-mindedly began rubbing his empty hand against his arm "more like work really, it just what I do"  
  
"You get to kiss that very attractive blonde and its just work?" the guy said incredulously  
  
Jeff grinned. He'd kissed Trish before and she was beautiful; long icy blonde hair, big brown eyes and a tight curvy body. She was more a friend than anything and if he even started to enjoy the kiss, he'd feel guilty; Beth would be watching. Once, he would have been excited about having an angle with Steven Richards involving Richards' partner Victoria and Trish but now, it was just dead ended. He didn't feel any joy about it even though he knew he should. The WWE were throwing angles and ideas at him for him to catch hold of and use but he was sick of half-heartedly trying to be excited.  
  
"Got lost in thought there" the guy laughed "so it is just work? I think you need to find a new job"  
  
"Maybe I do" Jeff conceded with a nod as he turned his attention back to washing "I'm not in love with this one anymore"  
  
"So find a new one" the guy said with a sudden urgency in his voice that made Jeff look at him in surprise "find one that does make you happy, excited. Make music, sell holidays, spend days catching the breeze and shooting the wind, write your life's work in a million paintings and sell them for nothing, you're full of ideas so use them"  
  
Jeff gaped at him. It was like the guy had got into Jeff's head and spread all the contents bare. He knew just what Jeff was feeling and articulated it better than Jeff could have. The guy smiled, pulling back. Jeff noticed his eyes. He couldn't figure out the colour of them; they were a pale watery green or light brown. Maybe they were grey or gold. A colour that faded and sparkled.  
  
"You know what you want to do so make it happen. Hey it may sound cheesy but I know you want to break away and why not? Your brother's happy with that he's doing, so his girlfriend. They all are; if they're not then they walk. You need to make your choice, there's a chance you won't get paid and it'll take time for you to find the right place, person and time but you'll get there" the guy laughed suddenly "I should know, I do it everyday"  
  
Jeff was speechless. It was like someone had unzipped him and let a fresh breeze flow through his body, blowing all the dirt and dust out. It felt good, refreshing. This guy had pushed him round to face the right way and now he felt like he could do it. Maybe he would leave. The WWE would probably be glad to see him gone anyway. He had a lot to do; his music, his art, his poetry, his house. There were so many possibilities. He smiled, truly and properly for the first time in a while.  
  
"You know, for a geeky-looking guy, you're pretty intelligent" he said  
  
The guy looked upwards as if seeing something no one else did and smiled, raising an eyebrow  
  
"See? Someone thinks I'm intelligent" he said, talking to the air, he paused as if listening and laughed "maybe, we can discuss that later"  
  
He turned back to Jeff  
  
"Just do what you want to, you say 'live for the moment' a lot to the fans so why not follow it yourself' all you need is some hope and faith"  
  
Jeff concentrated on scrubbing an upper arm as his thoughts correlated slowly, slotting into place. He didn't even know the guy standing there yet the guy seemed to know him inside out. Better than anyone else. It meant no useless words were used trying to explain. There was no need, the guy already knew. That was a blessing. Jeff lifted his head to say something then smiled. The guy had disappeared. He hadn't even heard the door open. Somehow Jeff wasn't even surprised. Things made more sense now. He had a lot of thinking to do. 


	3. Forget It

Disclaimer: own nothing, please remember that  
  
"Miss Mcmahon, I have that file you requested from the writers"  
  
"Oh thanks, put it on my desk"  
  
Stephanie smiled at the assistant who quickly dropped the paper filled file on the desk and exited with barely a backward glance.  
  
"Whatever happened to hello and goodbye?" wondered Stephanie aloud as she reached for the file  
  
As she picked it up still looking at the empty doorway, its contents spewed out all over the floor and the desk. Cursing quietly under her breath, she bent down and began picking up the paper. Her evening had not gone well. Being head of the writing team was a lot of hard work. People expected you to know exactly what was going on where and to have all the answers. Add to the fact that she portrayed Smackdown's General Manager on screen and that she was the bosses' daughter in real life and everyone thinks you know everything there is to know about the show. It had been giving her a headache at every taping for as long as she could remember. When Vince had asked her to be on TV again, she'd jumped at the chance. She loved performing for the cameras especially as a heel which was what she specialised in. She didn't know it was gonna bring such damning work and headaches.  
  
The main cause of her headache was the talent. They'd done nothing wrong. They worked hard and made even the mediocre stories work well because they knew they had to. They were just a little too polite to her. They treated her like the boss, the person they didn't tell the inside joke to or were nice to all the time. It had been like that since she became the GM. Didn't they know it was just an angle? She felt like an outsider, being pushed to the sidelines because she didn't work in the ring like the rest of them. To be honest, it was frustrating her beyond belief since most of them didn't even realise they were doing it. They treated Vince and Linda the same way but not Shane. Shane was one of the boys. He took crazy bumps and made everything work. He was part of the roster almost, their friend. But not Stephanie. To them, she would always be the princess.  
  
"Need some help with that?"  
  
The voice startled her so much that she dropped the collection of papers all over the floor. Embarrassed by her girlish reaction, Stephanie looked up to see a young guy staring down at her. He looked kinda young to be working backstage but was dressing like the crew; jeans, baggy t-shirt, tough old sneakers. He'd probably come in for some instructions of some kind though he made no move to ask any questions as he stood there  
  
"Um...no I think I'm ok" she replied at last, beginning to hastily grab for the papers again  
  
The guy smiled and handed her a few stray sheets without a word. Stephanie gave an embarrassed smile back before lowering her head and continuing to pick up the papers. It was rare that any of the crew saw her so flustered and highly strung. She usually put up a façade of perfectly styled professionalism at all times. Maybe that was the problem. They probably thought of her as fire and ice; fire on screen and ice off it.  
  
"The show was good tonight" the guy said at last, his hands shoved deep in his pockets  
  
"Did you think so?" Stephanie was surprised to find she was eager to know his opinion, despite the fact she hardly knew him at all  
  
"Yeah there was some good development of characters and stuff like that" the guy shrugged a little "its all beyond me"  
  
Stephanie smiled at his words. The accent was British but different to William Regal's. Regal's was refined as stiff upper class but this one was looser, natural. He was being himself. He seemed at home in her office though his clothes didn't really fit in. Stephanie was too flustered to ask what he was doing. She could do with some company anyway. She missed Hunter  
  
"When did you last see him?" the guy answered  
  
Stephanie started and looked at him. How did he know she was thinking about Hunter? He pointed to the framed photo on her desk which she always brought with her out of habit. It showed her and Hunter together when they were out one night.  
  
"We see each other a couple of times a week" she said, twisting the engagement ring on her finger "it sounds like a lot but...it's not really"  
  
"You miss him a lot" it was a statement not a question  
  
Stephanie swallowed a little. It seemed to open up a hole in her, revealing the loneliness she felt inside. Hunter was not only her fiancé but a really good friend too.  
  
"More than you know" she managed, turning away to hide her sudden glistening eyes  
  
Frantically she wiped at her eyes, hoping her make up wouldn't smudge or run. She needed something to do with her hands, to calm her down. She quickly sat behind her desk, she was safe there. She began rearranging the papers she'd picked up back into the file they'd slipped out of. She didn't usually let herself think about Hunter otherwise she began to feel very very alone.  
  
"You work hard for this show" the guy said at last  
  
Stephanie looked up, surprised he was still there. She'd assumed he'd left; her turning away had made it pretty obvious, she thought, that she didn't want company. She folded her hands together and looked at him, ready to tell him to leave but before she could, he began speaking.  
  
"You work very hard, I've seem all the crap you put up with and you're the bosses' daughter" he shook his head in amazement "you should be enjoying your Dad's money not taking the flak you do but it's your choice and that's what's important. You made the choice to be here and take the bumps, take the criticism, why stop now?"  
  
"What are you saying?" Stephanie asked, intrigued more than she wanted to admit to  
  
"I'm saying you should stop complaining" the guy said with a sharp frown "you should know you were going to get abuse here, you are the bosses' daughter after all which means people are going to say you've had it easy which you have by the way"  
  
"Gee thanks" Stephanie said sarcastically, not so sure she liked where this was going  
  
"I'm just telling you the truth" the guy replied "you work hard at this job so keep working hard, they're going to respect you for the effort you put in, not for the fancy engagement ring you have on your finger, or your fiancé, what did you call him? Hunter? Or who your father is, they're going to respect you for the work you put into your job"  
  
"So basically, all my hard work will still be ignored, they'll still talk about me behind my back but hey, maybe one day they'll respect me" Stephanie said  
  
"That's not what I..."  
  
"You know what? I don't know who you are or why you're in here but I think you took a wrong turn on the way to the production truck so get the hell out of my office and let me do my work"  
  
Stephanie turned away from him. The guy looked briefly to the ceiling with a sigh.  
  
"I tried" he said quietly  
  
When Stephanie turned around again to dismiss him a second time, she found he'd gone. The door hadn't opened, she was certain of that. A cold shiver coursed through her, chilling her to the bone. Who had that guy been?  
  
The door opened and another assistant appeared with a sheet of paper in his hand  
  
"Figures for last week" he said and dropped it on the desk before exiting without a second glance  
  
Stephanie sighed, the ice in her veins melting. She had too much to do to wonder about a guy young enough to be her nephew spewing out lame Yoda advice. In her world it didn't fit in. In her world, she had too much work to do to even think about why she was doing it. She just did it. 


	4. You Don't Know

Disclaimer: own nothing except the unnamed guy. He's my creation so hands off!  
  
"Just a week off" Oscar muttered to himself "just a week off"  
  
He punched the bag hung from the ceiling hard as he spoke, punctuating his words with hits. He'd been doing the same thing for a little over half an hour, alternating punches and kicks and flowing combinations on the bag. He'd already spent an hour on a crash mat practising some of his difficult counters and tumbles with a trainer. It had been exhilarating to be able to do that; to feel back in control of his body again  
  
After his match against the Big Show or Paul Wight as he was in real life at Backlash, he'd been off TV because of the painful stretcher bump after the match. Show had picked him while strapped to a gurney and slammed him baseball bat-style against the ring post before letting him drop to the floor. It wasn't so much the hitting the ring post that did it but the unprotected impact from a height to the floor that did. He hadn't been able to feel parts of his body and had been taken to the hospital for some scans and tests. Luckily for the luchador, it had been temporary numbness which had worn off soon after leaving just bruising and bad memories. Paul had been really upset and apologised profusely as soon as he'd seen Oscar afterwards. Oscar had told him it was fine, it didn't matter and that it wasn't his fault. Stephanie had thought otherwise and given Paul a dressing down afterwards about protecting the smaller talent when doing big bumps.  
  
Oscar had been warned when he came to the WWE about it being known as 'the land of the giants' and there had certainly been a history of sizable opponents making their mark; Andre the Giant, Big John Studd, King Kong Bundy, The Undertaker, Big Show, Kane. The list went on. But from the nineties onwards, the WWE's biggest stars weren't always the ones biggest in size; Shawn Michaels, Bret Hart, Stone Cold Steve Austin, The Rock, Triple H, Kurt Angle, Chris Benoit, Eddie Guerrero. When Oscar had seen his old friends from WCW like Benoit and Guerrero do so well despite their size, he knew he could now make his way to the surviving wrestling company he was always told he was too small for.  
  
And he'd had success since his debut last year. He'd formed an excellent tag team with fellow Smackdown superstar Edge and they'd feuded with Angle, Benoit and the Guerreros resulting in an astonishing series of matches. He and Edge had even won the Smackdown tag team titles together. Now Edge was out with a very bad neck injury leaving Oscar to feud first with Matt Hardy for the Cruiserweight Title and now Big Show.  
  
Ever since he'd been ordered time off to recuperate and reassess his game plan, Oscar had been suffered from a bout of doubts. Were all those critics who'd told him he couldn't make it right? Was the WWE really too big for him? Was there room for a tiny Mexican luchador with a penchant for jumping out the skies? He'd thought so but now, he wasn't so sure. He slammed his fist into the punch bag again and caught it as it flew back at him. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand with a deep intake of breath. Maybe this was God's way of telling him to move to somewhere else that would appreciate his talents more, where he'd fit in more comfortably like Japan or perhaps even back to Mexico. The WWE did want their workers to stop being so high risk which basically cut him out of the game. Maybe he did belong somewhere else  
  
"Or perhaps not" a voice replied to his thoughts  
  
Oscar whirled around at the voice, nearly swinging the punch bag into the offending voice's owner as he did. A young scrawny guy stood there, he couldn't have been older than twenty and he hardly looked like the gym type but there he stood, in loose black pants, a grey t-shirt and black jacket, looking expectantly at Oscar  
  
"Do you want to use the bag or something?" Oscar asked, trying to keep the confrontational tone from his voice, still annoyed at being startled  
  
"Do I look like the sort of person who'd punch something for fun?" the guy snorted before holding up a hand "wait don't answer that, you're doing pretty good without me stopping you"  
  
Oscar grinned to himself and carried on punching the bag hanging in front of him, ignoring the guy's presence. He could see him out of the corner of his eye; still there, still watching. It was beginning to get on his nerves.  
  
"How long have you been out with that injury?" the guy asked suddenly  
  
Oscar groaned inwardly; the guy was a fan, which explained everything. Fans could be very creepy sometimes and you learnt to deal with them.  
  
"Long enough" he replied "since the Backlash PPV"  
  
"Oh so nearly a month then"  
  
"Trying not to think of it being that long" Oscar replied through gritted teeth "just a few weeks that's all, I'm gonna be back on Smackdown next week anyway"  
  
"You've handled it well then"  
  
Oscar turned around exasperated. The guy stood, hands in his pockets, looking expectantly at him, a slight smile on his face. Oscar resisted the urge to vent frustrated anger on him. But the guy was getting on his nerves now.  
  
"You don't know what I've been through" he replied at last "got no idea at all"  
  
"You mean about your life in general or just the injury?"  
  
"Both"  
  
"So explain"  
  
Oscar shook his head. Fans didn't deserve to hear the bitter side of the story, all the frustrating parts which wrestlers hide so well beneath their performance. But there was something about this guy. Something in his eyes. They looked pale green but they could have been anything. They kept changing behind his glasses in the light. He couldn't put his finger on it but the guy was not ordinary.  
  
"Fans don't need to hear the bad side of the story" he said finally  
  
"Who said I was a fan?" the guy protested  
  
He looked to the ceiling with a grin  
  
"Alright so I'm not a fan, happy?"  
  
With a sigh, Oscar turned back to the guy and shook his head again. He picked up his gym bag and made his way over to the free weights in front of a massive wall-covering mirror. The guy followed him silently and watched as Oscar picked up two small dumbbells to start working with. Finally under the guy's mysterious probing stare, Oscar began talking  
  
"WWE is just too big for a luchador like me" he said, grunting a little as he worked out "it's full of giants who could squash me if they wanted to or even if they didn't want to by accident, it ain't safe for me to be out there flying around, maybe this is just a sign I should move somewhere where I won't get squashed or moved down for the bigger talent"  
  
"You think because you're small you're not going to get anywhere?" the guy said slowly "look at what you've done already, you've done some excellent in-ring matches I'm told with a young man called Adam and even battled an Olympic Champion"  
  
"But people are always going to say I'm too small to main event or win the title" Oscar protested "and that's what we're all here for"  
  
"Your size makes you different, no one else moves the way you do" the guy reaffirmed "I think it's very impressive that you do what you do, very courageous"  
  
"Or stupid" Oscar muttered to himself  
  
"Not stupid, brave and you have a lot more to do before you hang up your mask for good"  
  
The guy reached down and pulled a mask from Oscar's bag. It was one of the ones he wore in the ring, highly colourful and decorative. He smiled at it in his hands  
  
"This makes you different, you bring a certain edge to the proceedings and you most certainly entertain" the guy smiled, throwing the mask to Oscar who caught it in the crook of his arm "just don't lose hope"  
  
Oscar looked down at his mask and remembered his uncle, the original Rey Mysterio Jnr who'd trained him and helped him create his unique ring style. The one who'd bestowed the name to his nephew when he was ready and respectful. Could he really throw that away because of one injury? Maybe the guy was right. Oscar looked up but the guy had disappeared. Oscar shrugged, that guy had been very unsettling, like he knew what Oscar was thinking, what his fears were. What did he know about what Oscar went through on a daily basis? He was probably some nutty fan but he did speak some sense even if he was unhinged. Oscar dropped the mask to his feet and in the gaze of the empty eyes of his uncle, began lifting the dumbbells with renewed vigour. 


	5. Biting, Breaking

Disclaimer: own nothing as usual, but it will all be mine one day, oh yes it will be mine.  
  
A/N Thanks also to the amazing jadedvixen for her lovely reviews. I love ur stuff as well girl and am honoured that u dig this story. I guess you're the only one apart from me who does! I have one more chapter left to write and that's it. Thanks for your support  
  
*  
  
"I've told you before Rob about hitting the mat like that" sighed the trainer  
  
"No sweat Jake, I mean you're always here to patch me up right?" Rob replied  
  
Jake shook his head and gestured for Rob to take hold the ice pack that he was currently pressing against Rob's bruised knees. He went over to the counter and picked up a sheet of paper, running his eyes over it.  
  
"Rob, you've heard Mr Mcmahon's new policy about high risk moves right" Jake asked  
  
"Sure, not so much high risk since its injuring superstars and costing us all money" replied Rob with a shrug "what about it?"  
  
"If you don't clean up your act then you may not be here for me to patch up" Jake answered  
  
"What do you mean?" Rob asked urgently  
  
"The amount of people you cut up or injure in the ring is beyond reason" Jake said slowly "so many people limp in here saying they just had a match or run-in with you, it has got to stop Rob or you might be out of a job"  
  
Before Rob could retort anything back, Jake moved over to a bench where Lance Storm, Rob's good friend from ECW was waiting silently, patiently. Rob sighed and resisted throwing the ice pack across the room. He'd heard about Vince's new policy about the extreme style of some competitors. Rob had thought that people like him would be excluded, bringing a bit of spice to the show but maybe he wasn't. Glen, his tag team partner known as Kane on-screen, had told him that he'd have to tone down a bit if they really wanted to gel as a tag team. Rob had refused until Glen showed him show to soften his edges to perfection. Now they were seamless and tag team champions. But was it enough?  
  
He'd always cut people up when he wrestled. That probably came from the no- holds-barred approach of his trainer The Original Sheik. He'd been a hardcore legend, famous for the bloodshed in his matches. It was probably due to him that Rob had been so successful in ECW; he knew exactly how hardcore the crowds liked it and how to provide the perfect blood-soaked entertainment. Paul Heyman, ECW's owner, had told him he perfectly embodied ECW in all its barbed wire, chair swinging glory. It was the highest compliment. Now he was in WWE where things were definitely toned down. Even more so since the Hardcore title belt was retired and Vince had administered the warning. Jeff Hardy, one of the most extreme athletes, had left only recently. There were whispers it was because of a drugs test or because he refused to tone down his wrestling style which had made him so famous.  
  
His knees were screaming in pain. Every time he landed from a split-legged moonsault or Van-Daminator or Five-Star Frog Splash, his knees took the brunt of the damage. And every night he came to the trainer's room for some ice. He didn't use to, it was natural for him to carry on injured or not and a sign of shame to the go and see the trainers for help. Unfortunately, Vince found out about it and told him to start looking after his body. So now Rob asked for the barest minimum; ice, cold cream, elastic bandages. Anything that could be quickly applied or barely noticeable. Anything that would relieve the pain quietly. Tommy completely disagreed with surgery or any form of help, saying it was for quitters. Mind you, Tommy had been bust up and broken more times than any other wrestler Rob knew. Maybe there was a lesson somewhere in that.  
  
When he'd started cutting people up and making them bleed, it hadn't been noticed that much. When it had been noticed, that was when Rob had noticed his sliding status to the opening card. He'd always been told he was a main- eventer but he found himself being shuffled out of way. But the office couldn't disagree with the cheering he got, the pops he got walking down the ramp or the 'RVD' chants that always started up in his matches. Even against the ultra popular Jeff Hardy at Rob's first PPV he'd got the chants. If that didn't say something then nothing did. But the WWE had held him back because of his attitude. Rob had refused to change his style, no compromise; the Sheik had helped create it and now Rob was going to continue. Why change it when he knew it drew in the crowds? It was even worse now that the Hardcore title belt was gone. The audience wouldn't be so accepting of his violent style the office told him. But they made him tag team champ on Raw with Glen didn't they? Maybe it was to stop him being World Champion. Rob had heard the whispers that he would be some day.  
  
"Drop this?" a voice piped up suddenly  
  
Rob looked to his left. An ice pack was being offered to him by a tall scrawny guy, Rob estimated his age at about nineteen. He wore a long sleeved grey tee with a sleeveless black jacket over the top and old worn black jeans. He was grinning at Rob as though at a hidden joke. Suspiciously, Rob accepted the ice pack and held it against his knee again. It must have slipped from his hands while he was thinking.  
  
"Rough night out there?" the guy asked, producing a roll of gaffer tape from his pocket and beginning to play with it  
  
"As always" Rob replied  
  
He watched the way the guy played with the tape. He was probably a member of the local crew or something, come to find wayward technical crew. But he wasn't leaving. He leant against the wall, watching Rob intently out of unidentifiable eyes.  
  
"Ever think of slowing up a little in there? You know, stopping that pace?" the guy asked suddenly  
  
"What is this? A conspiracy?" Rob asked loudly, throwing his hands in the air causing the ice pack to fall to the floor again "have you been sent here by Vince or something to convince me not to wrestle my style?"  
  
"Nothing like that, just curious" the guy reassured him  
  
He picked up the ice pack from the floor and grinned slightly at the 'RVD' adorned wrestling boots Rob had strapped to his feet.  
  
"Interesting" was his only comment before straightening out and handing the ice-pack back to Rob "keep it on the sore knees champ, that's how healing works"  
  
"Oh really?" cracked Rob sarcastically "I had no idea"  
  
"That much is obvious" the guy replied with a glare at him  
  
Rob bristled at the patronising tone of the comment. Maybe it was just the British accent that made the words sound like that. It was certainly a distinct voice that Rob had never heard much before. He shifted the ice pack around on his knees. He could still hear Jake muttering quietly to Lance as he worked on him  
  
"Why aren't you out de-rigging the lights?" he asked  
  
"They have people to do that in the crew" the guy answered "I'm here to speak to you"  
  
"What about? My medical insurance?"  
  
"Very humorous, it's a pity I haven't got my usual amount of time for a battle of wits but no it's about your attitude in the ring"  
  
"What about it? It's got me the gold" Rob nodded towards the championship belt lying on the bench beside him  
  
The guy picked it up, looking at it curiously. He stroked the surface, frowning slightly  
  
"So this is what you 'fight' to win" he said before wincing painful and glaring up at the ceiling "alright, I'll stop the snide comments"  
  
He dropped the belt back onto the bench and turned back to Rob, the gaffer tape again juggling in his hands. He was beginning to give Rob a headache with all his fiddling and juggling. Could someone die from being hit hard in the head with an ice pack? The guy began speaking as though he hasn't noticed the death glares he was receiving from Rob  
  
"So you want to be star ok? So you do the indies, the Sheik teaches you some stuff, you become..what is it they called you? 'The whole f'n show'? well anyway, you become a big star in ECW before it closes down and end up here, the last one left and they don't like your style so what do you do?"  
  
"How much is the answer worth?"  
  
"My peace of mind and possibly my job"  
  
"In that case, I pass"  
  
"An American with a sense of humour and I find him when I have limited time the guy rolled his eyes "just answer the question, it'll make both our lives easier"  
  
"Fine, I continue the way I am, exciting the crowds and getting the job done in the ring, happy?"  
  
"About as happy as you look, why don't you just change?"  
  
"Because its got me this far, it makes me different and I like how the crowd reacts to my moves, they like it, I like it and people always remember my match at the end of the show, no matter what the main event is"  
  
The guy smiled satisfied and slipped the role of tape into his jacket pocket.  
  
"See that wasn't so hard"  
  
"On who? I still have to change my style or be fired probably from what Jake was saying"  
  
"So modify, evolve, that's what road agents are here for or so I'm told, do you want to end up like your old comrades Raven and Justin? Have some hope. Just be yourself and evolve into the product, oh and stop being so damn arrogant, its killing to watch"  
  
"Anyone ever told you that you sound like Yoda on a bad British day?"  
  
"Only you and I'll take that as a compliment, think about it"  
  
Rob sighed and closed his eyes, drawing his hands over his face to gather his thoughts. He could modify he guessed, change a bit to make it more accessible for the office. He'd have to if he wanted to keep his job. If need be, he could only change slightly but still keep the important parts in. He'd been thinking of trying to get the Hardcore belt reinstated, maybe now was the time to try it. It would certainly make explaining his style a lot easier. He opened his eyes to talk again but the space in front of him was empty. No one was there. He hadn't heard the door open but that guy had gone completely.  
  
As he looked around the room for other possible places of exit, the door opened and Glen walked in, peeling his Kane mask off as he did.  
  
"How's the knees doing Rob?" he asked "you've gotta get some sort of clean- up surgery done on them"  
  
"Maybe"  
  
Rob's mind was still on the mysterious disappearance of the guy. Glen frowned; taking in Rob's spaced out expression  
  
"Rob? You ok in there?" he asked  
  
"Uh yeah, Glen did you seen like a lanky guy about twenty or nineteen come of this room before you walked in?"  
  
"No, why?"  
  
"I think I've just been visited by the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come"  
  
Glen grinned at his friend and hit him on the back lightly before walking back to where Jake was still helping Lance. Rob stayed where he was, his thoughts still reeling. Who knew who that guy was? Rob grinned and shifted the ice pack onto his other knee. It was definitely one of the weirder conversations he'd had backstage. Who cared? He'd probably imagined him anyway. 


	6. Hope and Faith Forever

Disclaimer: own nothing except the OCs. All will be revealed later  
  
She'd forgotten how hard ring work-outs could be when you just started. It was like being in Mexico all over again, only there bumping hurt like hell while some crazy instructor yelled at you in incomprehensible Spanish and expected you to do exactly what he said at that moment. No wonder people told she was fast, flashy and spontaneous. It was the way she'd been taught  
  
But that was then, this was now. Now she had to make that long climb back to expert ring-worker from neck-braced invalid. It was going to be a hard climb but she'd yearned for it ever since she'd had the surgery and been forced into her house like a hostage. She'd been waiting to work in the ring again after so long out of it and the chance to perform to sell out crowds again. It was proving to be tougher than she thought  
  
Her limbs knew what they were doing. They'd always reacted immediately and usually in the way she planned for them but now as she began light in-ring training at OVW, one of the WWE's developmental leagues, her limbs didn't want to play. They were sludgy and slow, not responding in the way she wanted them to. She'd been working in OVW for just over a couple of weeks but felt like she was getting nowhere. She wanted to be back on TV but had a while to go yet. A few months to be precise but it seemed like an eternity.  
  
She sighed as sat in the locker room, lacing up her sneakers that she always wrestled in. Who'd have thought it, Lita the WWE's resident high- flying daredevil diva unable to even perform a hip-toss? It would shock a lot of fans, she knew that much. She'd cried with frustration early on because she wasn't responding in the way she was used to. The trainers here had been amazing and coaxed her back out when she'd wanted to pack it all in while she came to terms with her body's dysfunctions. They'd managed to get her to continue working. Sure it was getting a little easier but not even as half as good as the redhead who'd fought at Wrestlemania X8 last year for the Women's Championship. It was going to take a lot more work.  
  
Amy sighed and propped her elbow up on her knee, thinking. She hated to admit it but there was some definite fear going on in her head right now. All the WWE knew how ruthless the fans were, especially the on-line critics who seemed to relish ripping apart any small defect they could pick out in the wrestlers' work. What would everyone think if she came back not as good as before? She could hear the criticisms now. She didn't want to deal with that, not when she was trying to return. She'd had enough of their comments when she'd been commentating for Heat and had to put up with comments like 'Lita - the worst announcer in the West' being posted everywhere and printed in magazines. All her career, at everything she did, she tried hard; she did the best she could for the work that she loved. When she was in the glaring media spotlight, you had to perform the best you could and sometimes that wasn't enough for the perfection seeking internet critics. She was sick and tired of trying to reach their standards. Matt had told her that she could do anything she wanted to and that he'd support her with whatever she did. It brought a smile to her face to think about him. Matt, her caring boyfriend who'd done so much for her since she'd been injured, looking after her. Her smile faded as she thought about Jeff, Matt's brother who'd left only recently to seek challenges new with his band. She'd spoken to him only a few days ago. He had so much to offer but she'd told him that whatever he did, he must do it to keep himself happy.  
  
She carefully began stretching herself, remembering to adapt for her neck. She didn't want to go all the way back to square one, mindless rehab. She'd walked up 50 steps soon after her surgery to prove how serious she was about making a quick hard recovery. She'd helped out at an animal shelter during her recovery to keep herself active and now she could start ring training. She should feel excited but all she felt was despair. She wanted to be in the ring so badly, the women's division was full of excellent in- ring talent right now; Trish, Jazz, Victoria, Jackie, Ivory, Molly even the Smackdown divas like Nidia and Dawn were training hard. There was so much to do. But that was for the old Lita, the new Amy felt like she could even hit a clothesline sometimes. Now was one of those times.  
  
"Someone's lost hope" an amused voice sounded suddenly  
  
Amy whirled around so fast at the voice that she fell backwards, falling over the bench behind her and went sprawling onto the floor.  
  
"Well that was graceful" the voice said wryly  
  
Amy heard a splatter of footsteps and then a pair of arms began lifting her to her feet. She more than a little embarrassed at someone seeing her sudden pratfall.  
  
"There you go" the voice said  
  
Amy lifted her head to look as she dusted her clothes off. She expected to see one of the trainers or wrestlers come to find her to start the day's practice. She was very surprised to see someone she didn't know. He was a tall thin guy; about nineteen she guessed, dressed in a white button down shirt with a short sleeved black shirt all undone over the top and black jeans. He was smiling at her. He was probably a new talent.  
  
"I am so embarrassed" she blurted out "sorry you had to witness that"  
  
"Oh no it was very entertaining" the guy laughed "you off to practice?"  
  
"Will be soon" Amy answered  
  
"There was so much enthusiasm in that answer" teased the guy "I thought you were supposed to be the daredevil of the WWE's women's division?"  
  
"Well I was until some stuntman dropped me on my head and wrecked my neck"  
  
"So you're here to re-train then?"  
  
"That's the idea"  
  
"Which is just thrilling you"  
  
Amy glared at him. He was really getting on her nerves now but he just stood there and smiled, waiting for her to speak  
  
"Look, I can't even throw a hip-toss right now! I used to be able to do moonsaults and hurricanranas, now I can't do a lousy hip-toss" she exclaimed, the pain pouring into her words  
  
"Those terms mean nothing to me I hope you realise"  
  
"But you get the idea, I'm not me anymore, I'm this weak trapped woman who can't live up her own expectations, let alone the crowds and internet freaks, I can't do it anymore"  
  
As soon as Amy said that, she felt something break inside her. She hadn't admitted that to herself or anyone else for that matter before. Tears filled her eyes and she turned from the guy to blink them away. Everything seemed hopeless now she'd said that. She heard him murmur  
  
"Sounds like she has no faith in yourself....I guess you can come down now....I can't do this one on my own, it's not all my area"  
  
"Are you talking to yourself?" Amy said suddenly as she turned around, eyes narrowed  
  
"Oh no, at a friend"  
  
Amy gaped in confusion at him as he walked to the door and opened it with a flourish. In stormed a female, all wild long hair and flashing eyes. She wore navy blue jeans and a blue and white striped strap belly top, a stretchy black undone shirt over the top. Her hair was long and brown flying everywhere while her eyes were hidden behind glasses.  
  
"Finally! Do you know how long I've had to stay up there? It's been a long wait just watching" she exclaimed  
  
She grinned suddenly and briefly kissed the guy before turning her attentions to Amy who wasn't really sure what to make of the scene before her.  
  
"Amy Dumas, it's a great honour to meet you, I'm a huge fan of yours" the girl said  
  
"Oh so you're fans" realised Amy, relief flooding through her, that explained a lot  
  
"I'm the fan, he isn't" the girl answered, jerking her thumb over her shoulder at the guy "but seriously, you're like my favourite wrestler, the stuff you do is wild"  
  
"It was until this happened" Amy replied glumly, gesturing to her neck  
  
"That? You're here aren't you? Ready to re-train, you've been doing ok for the past couple of weeks" the guy said cheerfully "your in-ring return's scheduled for July so it's not that long to go"  
  
"Have you finished with the fan thing now?" the guy asked suddenly  
  
The girl turned around and mock-glared at him before laughing and grabbing one of his hands, pulling him to her side. Amy noticed that she wore a silver cross around her neck on a fine silver chain.  
  
"You're gonna get through this Amy, I know you will, you've just gotta have some faith and some hope and a lot of hard word" the girl said  
  
"It isn't that easy" Amy started  
  
"Yes it is" the guy cut in "just do what you always do, live for the moment"  
  
"And don't give up, when things get frustrating, it means a breakthrough is coming" the girl added  
  
Amy smiled slightly, it seemed like a glow came from them. For some reason, she felt lighter. It was going to be hard work but since when had anything been easy for her? She wasn't conventional or traditional, things always came twisted out of shape for her to untangle. Matt had always told her that she thrived on the difficult in life. He was right, she wasn't used to easy; she was used to fighting for what she wanted.  
  
The girl nodded satisfied  
  
"And we're done, let's move" she said beginning to move towards the door  
  
It was then that Amy noticed something. The door was the only way in, how was it that the guy got in in the first place? A shiver coursed through her, were they real? Something stirred in her mind, something Jeff had said about being visited by someone who made him see straight. As they reached the door, she ran and stood in front of them and the door. They both stopped surprised.  
  
"How did he get in? The door was shut, I made sure of that when I came in to change" she said, her eyes darting from one form to the other, her heartbeat pounding  
  
The two looked at each other; the guy raised his eyebrow, the girl shrugged. They evidently went in for non-verbal communication. Amy could feel sweat start to prickle her skin. She knew that the door was shut. For some reason, she had to know. They'd appeared and were about to disappear  
  
"She is the last one so we could tell her" the guy offered  
  
"Yeah why not?" the girl answered  
  
Amy let out a huge breath and relaxed from her position of being pressed up against the door so that they couldn't go out without answering her questions. The girl smiled at her kindly, feeling her distress  
  
"You didn't tell me your names" Amy said at last her voice breathless "what are they?"  
  
"And so it begins" the guy muttered before the girl nudged him sharply "fine, my name's Hope"  
  
"And mine's Faith" the girl chirped  
  
"Were your parents' hippies or something?" laughed Amy  
  
"Oh no, our parent is a lot more than some free-love believing sixties- bound revolutionary" Faith replied, her eyes shining "He's the greatest thing ever, a Spirit that cannot be measured, infinite love"  
  
"Wait, you have the same parent but...." Amy gestured to their intertwined hands puzzled  
  
"Oh we're not brother and sister; we're part of the name person" Hope answered "made of the same matter"  
  
"The same but different" Faith added "our necklaces show that much"  
  
Amy looked at the pair; they did look vaguely alike but different. It was odd; they seemed to shimmer round the edges. She moved closer trembling slightly to look at their necklaces. Faith wore a cross but Hope wore some sort of star on a black cord.  
  
"It's a pentacle" Faith filled in for her "opposites see?"  
  
"In fact, we're not really here at all and when we're gone you'll think you imagined us" Hope said  
  
"But we touch your life every day, just not in such a physical way"  
  
"But we're there, all the time; we just decided to make a personal appearance"  
  
"That's not strictly true, we were told to come down here"  
  
"Yes well, we said we would and we have and now we're finished, you're the last one"  
  
Amy looked at them, taking in their rapid fire banter, her breaths shortening. They weren't really here, ghosts then? Apparitions to haunt her for all she'd done wrong?  
  
"So you're ghosts?" she croaked out  
  
"Ghosts? No such thing, we're spirits, very different" Faith replied  
  
"Elements really, elements of..well our names really" Hope offered  
  
"You said I was the last one, what for?" Amy said  
  
"For needing help, in this company there's a severe drought of hope and faith so we were told to come down and change it because He heard it" Faith answered patiently  
  
"Heard what?" Amy asked  
  
"The silent cry, the one that everyone makes when they're miserable and without hope and faith, so many in this company needed us but it's been a pleasant trip" Hope said with a smile  
  
"Oh for you maybe but I've been stuck upstairs while you've been living it up down here" Faith retorted, squeezing his hand  
  
"And to answer your first question, I got in by thinking where I was needed most" Hope said with a wink  
  
"Which I can't do pity me and will really give you something to think about" Faith laughed  
  
Amy stared at them for a second. They were glowing in front of her eyes again, so much it hurt her to look. She closed them to stop the heartbeat in her head from exploding. She heard a laugh then a hand touched her face lightly. The heat in her head stopped. When she opened her eyes, no one was there. She could smell something though, a bittersweet smell that lingered for a long time.  
  
"Amy? You ready for practice?" a voice suddenly asked  
  
The trainer was stood in the doorway, looking expectantly. Amy started and turned slowly to look at him  
  
"Sure I guess" she replied "I'll be right there"  
  
Her body felt taught and cold. Something happened. Jeff had told her that he felt right about his decision that the visitor had helped him see straight and give him hope. Maybe it was true, maybe she imagined it. But then Faith had said she'd think that. Amy smiled slightly. Who knew what had happened? She had a practice to go to and a hip-toss to perfect before she moved onto crossbodies. With a last look, she disappeared from the room, the bittersweet smile trailing after her and the laughter stuck in her head. A memory that wouldn't go away. Ever.  
  
*  
  
Thank you Jadedvixen and FallenAngel for their reviews and love. This story meant a lot to me. Faith and Hope are based on real people. May you all find people in your lives who do the same for you. Thank you for reading and may you all have a little hope and faith in your lives. 


End file.
